


Waiting For The Tears To Fall

by lullabelle_moon



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Character Death, Grief/Mourning, I had an idea and I went with it, I tried to be emotional but it didn't work, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-09
Updated: 2013-07-09
Packaged: 2017-12-18 07:01:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/876964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lullabelle_moon/pseuds/lullabelle_moon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras didn't cry when Grantaire passed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waiting For The Tears To Fall

He didn’t cry. That was the oddest thing. He didn’t cry when the doctor came and told them what was wrong. He didn’t cry when they got home and had to talk about it. He didn’t cry when he found Grantaire shaving his own head at four am. He stayed stoic when Grantaire would scream about the injustice of dying when they had just found each other. When Grantaire became weaker and could no longer stay conscious for more than a couple hours his eyes didn’t water. Not a tear was shed when they lay in the hospital bed together, when he held Grantaire in the final moments. When he fell asleep for the last time he didn’t have a lump in his throat. He simply nodded and kissed Grantaire’s hands one last time before calling the doctor. The others crowded around him, offering hugs and drinks. Ready to comfort him when the floodgates opened but they never did. He sat in silence during the funeral; not looking up when the priest talked about their life together. Not moving when his shoulder was squeezed by Grantaire’s Dad- or when his mother hugged him tightly and thanked him for making their sons last month’s so happy. He simply stared at the picture of him propped up on the coffin. He took the urn home and set it on the table. He didn’t cry.

When he stopped turning up at meetings the others understood, they figured he needed time and they gave it to him. They had no idea he was packing up Grantaire’s things and sending them away. They had no idea he hadn’t moved the urn, had barely looked at it. They had no idea that he still hadn’t shed a tear. He returned to the meetings one afternoon. He said nothing, simply picked up a bottle of beer and sat in the back. He turned his head and looked out of the window at the city. The beer went unopened but he didn’t care. He simply wanted to sit with them for a while.

“Enjolras?”

The concern in Combeferre’s voice was strong. He turned from the view and looked up at him,

“Are you okay? You haven’t moved in hours.”

“I’m fine.”

Combeferre looked at him for a moment longer before reaching out to touch his shoulder,

“Can I do anything?”

Enjolras shook his head and smiled briefly,

“I’m fine. Really. Don’t worry about me okay?”

Combeferre chewed on his lip before nodding.

“I’m here if you need me okay?”

Enjolras turned back to the city before them,

“It’s a beautiful place really. If you think about it.”

Combeferre frowned,

“Yeah…it is.”

“He would have liked the autumn. It’s gonna be a beautiful one.”

“Enjolras….”

“He loved the forest. Did you know that?”

Enjolras smiled to himself,

“He said it was like stepping into a painting. I never understood that….I do now though. “

He stood up and looked at Combeferre.

“I’ll see you tomorrow okay?”

Combeferre nodded as Enjolras left the café, placing the unopened beer on the counter before he went.  He didn’t speak again for three weeks. The others became used to it, became accustomed to seeing him in the corner, always with his unopened beer bottle. Always watching the city instead of listening to them. That is until one day in mid-September when he suddenly smiled to himself before standing up and leaving. He walked home quickly, running up the stairs to his apartment and bursting through the door. He walked over to the table and picked up the urn. He wiped the layer of dust that had built on the top and held it to his chest,

“Sorry I’m late Grantaire. I’m here now okay?”

He put the urn in his bag and left the apartment. He got off the bus and walked straight into the woods. He walked until he couldn’t walk any further. Sitting down he took the urn from the bag and looked around,

“I think I chose you a good place. I think….I think you’d want to be here. You don’t want to be cooped up with me. Not really. No one would want that.”

He undid the lid and looked inside at the bag of ashes.

“It’s stupid isn’t it? That we end up like that. Just….dust. Nothing. That wasn’t you. You weren’t nothing. You were everything.”

He rubbed his face,

“I have to go now Grantaire. You do too. It’s late…I’m sure you have places to be…I hope I chose it right. I wanted it to be right for you.”

He stood back up and held the urn before him. He looked around him once more before tipping the urn and emptying the contents. The ashes flew into the wind, twirling up and flying through the space between the trees. Enjolras let the urn drop from his fingers as he watched it dance between the leaves.

“Goodbye my love.”

He looked round and saw him, looking upwards at the clouds. Grantaire stood there; clear as day just watching the shapes of the trees as they bent in the breeze.  He turned and smiled at Enjolras before mouthing the words “Thank you” and disappearing behind the trees. Enjolras couldn’t help but smile as the first tears fell from his eyes. He let them drip down his face as he packed his bag again and made his way slowly home.


End file.
